


Diving Measures

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, bottom!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared’s back from a two-week mission, but he’s going to make Commander Ackles work for the intel he recovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diving Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Bottom!Jared, completely inaccurate representation of everything involving the Navy SEALS (apologies, gentlemen), and 2nd hand-knowledge of tech-diving.  
> Disclaimer: I own only, and all of my errors.
> 
> A/n: I epically failed at getting a Navy!SEAL piece done for my dear [](http://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassiopeia7**](http://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com/) ’s birthday (in my defense it was Big Bang crunch time for authors), so here is this over a month late small piece of porn offering. HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! I based it off your lovely artwork for [ my birthday](http://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com)! Sorry for the birthday fail on my part, bb! ♥

“You’re late. And wet,” Jensen snaps, looking unhappily up from his desk.

“Sorry. I know you haven’t been out in the field for a while but it’s a bit hard to run in _these_ ,” Jared points to the fins he’s carrying with a still gloved hand. “And look—I’m hardly even dripping anymore,” Jared says as he pulls the black SEAL swim cap off his head, effectively releasing a spray of water across Jensen’s desk and paperwork.

He watches Jensen stand up and lean forward, raising his eyebrows until Jared tacks on “sir” as a last minute addition. Using both hands Jared removes the dive mask from his face, feeling the blood rush back to where the silicone-injected plastic had been strapped to his face. It tingles in that pleasant sort of way.

“Well then, by all means, why don’t you just take off your gear instead of giving me the data?” Jensen drawls sarcastically. Can’t take Texas out of the Commander, even though he’s been living in California for the past decade. “You did remember _retrieve the intel_ this time, right?”

“Yeah, I got it boss. Took extra-special care of it, too. The royal Padalecki treatment, if you will.” Jared smiles as he continues to remove the rest of his equipment—he doesn’t have much on him besides the essentials. Drysuit. Belt. Snorkel. Re-breather mask. Black waterproof boots. Two tanks of different oxygen mixtures that had enabled him to descend far beyond the depths of what normal, compressed air allows. He’d been on a stealth mission nearly 300ft below the surface, after all.

“How about yourself? Did you remember to take all of your decompression stops?”

Jared sighs. He’s been doing this for years now—he knows the dangers of ascending too quickly all too well. In layman’s terms that particular diving sickness is called “the bends”. It’s always a risk in a situation like this, when he’s just stolen information off a surfacing enemy submarine. Of course, his intuition is to get to safety like a bat out of hell and finish the mission, but it’s important to be careful. No one, including Jared, wants to experience paralysis or death from air bubbles in their body. Which is what would happen if he was to surface too fast. Surrounded by nothing but ocean, it’s not a pleasant way to go.

“I did wind up _passing_ my technical diving course, as you might remember, sir.”

“Barely. And you wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for my help at the time.”

Jared snorts as he starts to unzip the front of his drysuit exposing the layer of thermal underneath. It doesn’t matter that unlike wetsuits these ones are made for under fifty-degree water; forty minutes of swimming in the open Pacific is still cold as fuck. “Yes, you were quite helpful in the inspiration department. Remember the first time I passed my timed test?”

That, at least, has Jensen grinning. “Four minutes and twenty-nine seconds to be exact. As if I could forget what a horny bastard you were.”

“Am, actually, if we’re being completely accurate.”

Following the movement of Jensen’s eyes, Jared smirks when they land on the bulge in his suit. The way that Jensen’s eyebrows raise high enough that Jared’s pretty sure they’ve started becoming friends with his hair makes Jared smile as he completely divests himself of the top portion of his clothing, baring the dogs tags that cling to his cold, sweaty chest and rock hard nipples (goddammit, every time he comes out of the ocean he thinks they’ll _never_ get soft again, and it fucking hurts).

“…I hope there’s a good reason that you’re stripping in my office, lieutenant.”

“Quick post-mission stress relief?” Jared asks. “I locked the door on the way in.”

“You don’t have the key.”

Jared grins sheepishly and hands over Jensen’s extra key-card.

“Seriously? You want to have sex when you fucking _stole_ the key—“

“Borrowed,” Jared interrupts. “See. I’m giving it back.” He places the card onto the table, watching as Jensen undoes the cufflinks on his uniform.

“Intel first.”

He’d been hoping Jensen would ask for that…Jared reaches his hand down his drysuit into his groin area…

“Padalecki! That was an order in case you’ve forgotten what those were in the last two weeks. When I say intel, you give me the goddamn intel. You don’t decide you want to masturbate first.”

“Fine,” Jared says pulling his hand from his suit and putting both arms up in the air. “You’re welcome to find it then, Commander.”

Jensen glares, but walks around his desk, clearly willing to play Jared’s newest game.

“Cold, cold, mmm…warmer…but still cold,” Jared says as Jensen starts searching him from the top, down.

It’s not until Jensen eases his hands into the front Jared’s drysuit that he says, “Getting hot, sir.” Jensen doesn’t look amused at his pun.

It only takes Jensen a moment of groping Jared’s quickly filling dick to find the plastic bag containing the data stick.

“You know, there are things called pockets on the inside of the suit for this particular reason. To hold important information. You should use them.”

“I wanted to make sure it didn’t get too cold.”

“You wanted me to feel you up when you returned.”

Jared shrugs. “Would that be so awful if I did, sir? It’s been two weeks, and you always look damn hot in your uniform.”

Jensen doesn’t respond, and when Jared looks up from the floor, he sees that Jensen’s sitting on his desk, plugging in the USB port into his own computer.

Jared takes the free moment to pull off the rest of his scuba gear and walk over in between Jensen’s spread legs. He doesn’t ask, just carefully reaches down to undo the buttons on Jensen’s pants. They can’t risk messing up his tie or his carefully pressed shirt and jacket. Hell, they really shouldn’t chance doing this here at the office, but Jared’s been half-hard and thinking of Jensen’s dick since he got pulled from the ocean by the chopper. He knows by the time that Jensen gets home the adrenaline will have long worn off, and he’ll be fast asleep until his bladder or the dog wakes him up at some point in the following twelve hours.

While Jensen’s not hard when Jared takes him gently out of his blue pants, he’s definitely not soft either, and Jared leans in close so they can press their dicks together, seeking friction in the best of ways. It doesn’t take Jared long to start spurting pre-come; his dick always gets wetter faster than Jensen’s. It doesn’t shoot further though, which has always been a source of pride for Jared’s significant other. Sure, they’ve been (somewhat illegally) exclusive for over two years now, but despite the fact that Jensen could practically run the Pentagon, he still has trouble saying the word _boyfriend_. Jared’s long since chosen to find it endearing.

“Care to fuck me, commander? Else I’m going to come in a few minutes here.” Jared’s not lying. The steady pace he’s been stroking them at combined with the fact that he hasn’t gotten off in days has Jared teetering on the edge already. There’s no way he’d make it long enough to fuck Jensen.

“Yeah,” Jensen gasps as Jared runs his thumb gently over the top of their slits. Mixing their fluid until it’s impossible to tell what bits are Jensen and what bits are his own. Jensen slides off the table then, turning them around, until he’s got Jared pinned against his desk. He briefly wonders what important papers he’s about to get fucked on. Jared can always hope they’ll get sent to the President, right?

His thoughts are cut off by Jensen pressing his lips against his own. Soft, warm, and slightly chapped. Just the way that Jared likes them. They kiss with Jared holding on tight to Jensen’s tie with one hand, gripping his ass with the other until Jensen breaks it off.

“I’ve got a meeting in fifteen with the other senior commanders. We’ve got a conference call with D.C. before they go home for the evening, so this has got to be quick, ok?”

“Fine with me.”

“Excellent. Then turn around and put your forearms on the table, ass in the air.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared obeys quicker than any of the other orders he’d followed today.

He feels Jensen spit on his fingers, and then work two of them quickly into his hole, until he aches for more. Coming back from a dangerous mission always makes Jared anxious to fuck. And despite how much he loves to be inside Jensen, nothing else quenches Jared’s need to feel alive quite like the burn of Jensen’s thick, spit-slick cock as it enters his body, easily achieving a quick, deep pace. He feels his own dick flag—just the slightest amount—until the head of Jensen’s dick skims across his prostate, reminding Jared why he loves Jensen’s cock. And the rest of Jensen too, of course.

It’d be easy to reach down and jerk himself off in time to the thrusts that are moving his body further up Jensen’s desk with every push, but Jared doesn’t want that. He could have had his own hand any time while he was gone, and now that he’s back, he only wants Jensen. Both inside and around him. Covering every square inch of his body possible.

“Jensen, please,” he asks, hoping that Jensen won’t make him beg for more than that. He’s not sure that he’d have words, even if Jensen wanted them.

“Well, you did get the intel we needed,” Jensen says, clearly in possession of his faculties to a greater extent than Jared. Luckily for Jared, that’s all he says before moving his right hand off of Jared’s hipbone and down onto his dick. Jensen knows the exact way that Jared likes to be stroked--the right amount pressure, the twist at the top—and Jared comes all too soon over Jensen’s wooden desk before collapsing on a pile of most likely important paperwork. He feels Jensen’s hips stutter, thrusting in more deeply, more erratically than before until he slumps over Jared’s exhausted body, biting softly into the curve of his neck. Finally, he pulls out of Jared, and hands him a wad of tissues.

“I’d love to stay and help you clean up…but saving our dear country comes first, once again.”

Jared glares at him (he’s still not sure he can speak English at this point), and wipes his own come off Jensen’s desk, making sure to leave one strand untouched before cleaning up Jensen’s come that started to leak down his thigh.

“I’ve got extra gym clothes in the closet if you don’t feel like putting your scuba gear back on,” Jensen offers as he looks into his desk mirror, straightening his tie, and running his hand through his hair.

“Great. Thanks. I’m going to go sleep for the next week or so,” Jared replies.

“Sounds good,” Jensen says, clearly not listening, or pointedly choosing to ignore Jared’s hyperbole. “And by the way, your hair’s getting too long, get it buzzed before you head home, Padalecki.”

“Jensen…” Jared whines. He likes his hair long, always has. Deep down, he knows that Jensen does too.

“That’s Commander Ackles to you right now, Lieutenant.”

Jared does his best impression of their 5 month old Labrador until Jensen gives in, like he always does. “Fine. You can keep it until your next mission. But then it comes off. At ease, soldier.”

“See you at home, Commander?”

“Hooya,” Jensen responds, reminding Jared that he’s got to keep up SEAL appearances, even if he’s wearing Jensen’s slightly too-tight clothes. At least until he’s out of the building.


End file.
